Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 112736 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 451(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112736 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 451(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
I’d almost swear I’ve been here before...
But when? And how?
The answer eludes me. For the past couple of hours, I’ve been racking my brain, going through everything my parents told me, trying to figure it out.
Probing at the big blank space in my mind.
I know, even though I don’t remember it, that I was in a serious car accident five years ago. The injuries I sustained put me in a coma for over a month, and because of the bruising on my brain, everyone was afraid I wasn’t going to wake up.
I did wake up though.
I also made a full recovery, minus two years of my memory going up in smoke.
The doctors call it retrograde amnesia and wanted me to go through some occupational therapy to help me recover the missing memories. But once we found out I was pregnant with Levi that option went off the table. Fearing the whole process would cause me too much stress and harm Levi, my parents and I decided to let things play out how they will.
The memories may or may not come back to me one day, and honestly, up to this point, I never really cared. Once Levi was born and my parents started filling in the blanks for me, I decided I didn’t want to remember.
I didn’t want to remember because according to them I lost Levi’s father in that accident. Also according to them, he was my first real love, and there seemed no point in causing myself needless pain.
Forgetting him was a blessing.
At least, it was.
Now, as my hand hits the blinker for our exit before the GPS tells me this is where we get off the highway, I’m not so sure.
Have I been here before?
I can’t stop asking myself that question as we pass the sign announcing we’re entering Oldham County.
The sense of familiarity is so damn strong, I’d bet money that I have.
But I can’t fucking remember. And I honestly can’t remember my parents ever mentioning Kentucky before.
Maybe they did but I forgot that too?
Fuck.
Not only is this whole thing giving me a headache, it’s also starting to piss me off.
I need to talk to Robert. Surely, he’d remember. But if he did, wouldn’t he have mentioned it to me by now? Before we left would have been a great time to tell me…
“Look, Mommy! Horses!” Levi exclaims excitedly and points out the window as we drive past a sprawling green pasture.
Everywhere in Kentucky seems to be green. The ground, the hills, the trees. And it’s not your normal, everyday green. It’s bright, vivid, and full of life. Fertile.
Off the highway and away from the city, I feel like I’m driving through a scenic painting.
Wait...
Maybe that’s why this place seems so familiar… Maybe I’ve seen it in a painting before…
I let that possibility roll around in my brain.
It would make complete and total sense if this damn déjà vu that’s been plaguing me didn’t continue to grow.
It’s so strong now, I’m starting to freak out and I’m barely paying attention to where we’re going.
I don’t know what the hell is going on.
But my hands and feet seem to know where to go.
As I seriously begin to doubt my sanity, my foot eases on the brake to slow down and my hands turn the steering wheel, taking us up a gravel driveway that leads to a picturesque white house.
“You have arrived at your destination,” the GPS announces as we reach the end of the driveway.
I put the minivan in park then stare at the house through the windshield.
It’s both familiar and unfamiliar at the same time.
Like the face of a person I should know…
“Are we here?” Levi asks.
“I think so, sweetheart,” I say as I continue to stare at the house.
It’s an older two-story house, probably built in the 1800s. The outside looks as if it’s been well taken care of, but I don’t like the look of the sheets hanging inside over the windows.
“Can we get out now?” Levi asks, his little voice hopeful.
It’s been a long, grueling drive, and Levi has behaved like an angel. He hasn’t complained once, and only asked to stop if he was hungry or needed the bathroom.
I need to let him out of the minivan to stretch his legs, but I also need to see what we’re walking into first.
“In a minute, let me check on a couple of things,” I say, and see his shoulders slump in the rearview mirror.
“Okay,” he says, so dejected it hurts my heart.
Hoping for the best but expecting the worst, I leave the minivan running and the doors unlocked.
Walking the short distance from the driveway to the front porch, my ears strain as I listen for any sign of life. Robert said the previous tenants have already vacated, but better safe than sorry.
“Hello?” I call out as I reach the front door.